


Every Line

by Authormitchel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Auror Draco, Auror Harry, Auror!Draco, Getting Together, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Still canon drarry, auror!Harry, but soulmarks, partners, pining!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 09:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13268802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authormitchel/pseuds/Authormitchel
Summary: Draco has known since the battle that he has Harry Potter's soul mark on his body, and he's known just as long that he can never say a word about it to anyone. Harry is his auror partner, his friend, finally, and Draco is happy with that. He is.





	Every Line

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, this beast took me forever to write. I hope you like it. I am currently reading some Drarry on a dreamwidth rec list, and it is great. If you have never read Draco Malfoy and the Tome of Entrapment that is a great piece, and I really enjoyed it. 
> 
> I also stole the name Octavian Tyler from another brilliant fic, a Snarry one, titled The Paradox of Existence by DragonLight. If you google best snarry dreamwidth, a rec list will come up and you find it on there, and it was amazing, blew me away. The name was so good I had to use it for my own purposes. 
> 
> I appreciate every comment and kudos. 
> 
> And Jo Rowling, if you're reading this call me up, I have an idea. 
> 
> You can message me on Tumblr at thinkmyhappythoughts or on Twitter at Mitchel_chelsea.

“Pretty boy syndrome, and yes, you have it,” Draco said to his partner. “I never would have pegged you for it in school, but yes, I definitely see it now, oh Chosen One.” 

“Ha,” Harry scoffed, that adorable face of his scrunching up in mock offence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he defended. 

“Oh really,” Draco asked, eyes narrowing. “Here we are, partners, and while I’m doing all the paperwork from our last case you have your feet propped up on a couple of empty cardboard boxes while you shove yet another tart down your pie hole.”

“Hey,” Harry whined, a piece of tart falling out before he could stop it. 

“I’m taking a break, and I do not have pretty person disease or whatever you just said. I help plenty.”

“No,” Draco argued. “You do the bare minimum. You come here with your pretty face, and celebrity status, and you throw your money at this place,”

He scowled, and Draco knew he had to rephrase that. 

“Not like that, but…” Draco stuttered. “It’s just your face really, and you can’t be faulted for that.”

“So now you’re insulting my face. My face is offended,” Harry deadpanned. Draco laughed, but wouldn’t be deterred from his point. 

“It’s just a fact, you get away with far more than any of the rest of us. You waltz in here five minutes late for the meeting this morning, and instead of scolding you Shacklebolt offered you a tart.”

“Because I’ve been on call for four days straight,” Harry defended himself, though they both already knew the truth, Draco just liked to give Harry a hard time. Harry knew that he no longer meant it, and that they worked together better than any other aurors in the field. It was nice now that Harry understood his humor and that they were not just partners, but that they were now friends

“We all know someone like it. That one guy at your job that gets to run around doing nothing while you’re stuck with all the grimy work, and just because their cute and charming and just so happen to have a penis and slayed the darkest wizard of our time they don’t get so much as a slap on the wrist for avoiding the work. Do you honestly think everyone else has it like you Harry?”

“Well I…”

“Nope,” Draco stops him. “That was rhetorical.” 

“You motherf….”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, Potter.” 

“Minister,” Harry addresses 

“You’re due in court in ten minutes, and you have grape jam on your face,” Kingsley said. Harry nodded briefly, wiping away the jelly quickly, Shacklebolt   
laughing slightly at the boy wonder before heading back to his office. 

Draco headed to the back to file some work, and when he got back, half of his folders were now on Harry’s desk, and on Draco’s set a steaming cup of tea and a note that read: Time for a break, let your lazy partner do the rest. 

Draco smiled and laughed at the dorky but wonderful man before taking a few more files and setting back to work.

It happened once when they were out on assignment. Harry was off interviewing a witness while Draco watched the crowd. One moment, he was smiling kindly at   
a frightened looking little girl and harshly judging her idiotic mother who thought it would be a good idea to bring her child to such a place when he felt something wet hit the side of his face with a squish. He turned to look in the offender’s direction. A man, smartly dressed reared back to spit again as Draco waved his wand and cleared the substance from his cheek. 

“Death Eater Scum!” the man yelled instead. “You dare wear those robes? You should be in Azkaban for all that you’ve done.”

Draco adjusted his auror robes self consciously before he heard Harry calling for him. Draco turned back only to find that the man had gone. 

He’d like to say that was the only time something like that had happened, but then he’d be a liar. 

He remembered he had gone home that night and stripped off the auror robes he had worked so hard to earn as fast as he could. He just sat in his boxers   
staring at the crumpled, prestigious robes, willing his skin to stop crawling. It was only Harry’s face in his fire that stirred him. 

Harry gave him a quick update about the case then promised he’d bring some coffee and donuts since he knew how much Draco hated working early on Sundays. Draco had told him they’d better be chocolate covered which Harry rightfully took as “Thanks”, then disconnected the call. 

He had picked his robes up off the floor that night and hung them back in his closet. The next morning, Draco was back in his robes and had chocolate icing   
smeared across his face. 

 

&&&

Ginny Weasley wasn’t the worst, Harry might not have, but Draco always knew that Harry was bent. So while the rest of the world were speculating about what Ginny Weasley was going to wear on her wedding day, Draco was wondering how big the splash would be when Harry realized he liked men instead. Turns out, it was more like a tidal wave. Harry on the front page of the Prophet kissing Victor Krum. 

Draco had been looking for something like this to happen, but in all his cocky honesty, he had imagined it would be he and Harry on the cover. Personally, he thought, “The Death Eater Savors the Savior” had quite the ring to it, but it turned out that two former Tri-Wizard contestants finally “winning each other” had a much better ring to it. 

Whatever, Draco had said, Krum was too stupid to keep Harry’s attention, despite his more appealing charms. Though he still shudders when he hears the former star’s name. Harry had tried to tell everyone that it was just a kiss, that yes he was gay, but that he wasn’t interested in Krum like that. No, the worst was Octavian Tyler. A lawyer that often worked with the aurors, Harry had taken to him almost immediately. Most people dated, casually outside of their soul mark to see if they could find a match, but with Harry it was different. 

It was the worst immediately after the war. They still had the tension they had before they were partners only Draco had seen the proof of what he had subconsciously known for years. All of them were battle torn that day, but Voldemort’s followers had taken pleasure in parting the savior’s garments. Hagrid had carried Harry in, his tattered t-shirt hanging over his body like a blanket, but when he jumped from Hagrid’s arms his whole chest was on display. It was only when Harry had faced off against Voldemort in the Great Hall did Draco see it. 

After, before Granger could wisely cover the Chosen One in a blanket, some enterprising person had got a shot of the “Chosen Mark” for the readers of the “Prophet”. It provided a romantic end to a catastrophic reign of madness. Voldemort was gone, but Harry Potter was still a target, though this time of men and women everywhere who proclaimed that they were Harry’s soul match. And though Draco wanted to, he would never dissuade them of that notion. Draco may bear his mark, but there’s no universe in which he was good enough for Harry Potter. 

There was a dark time right after the war, his father had served time in Azkaban, his mother had moved to their country estate in France with Andromeda and baby Teddy to recuperate for a time. So, it was only him. 

Alone in the Manor, Draco would spend the night’s cleaning every surface that nosey aurors had traipsed through and every room Voldemort had ever set eyes on, without magic. But some nights, some days he would be unable to leave his bed. He was an outcast from society and separated from his family, and was dealing with his new status of traitor. Death Eater scum. He had to block the Floo and shore up the wards even after Potter had testified on behalf of he and his mother. Even among his fellow Slytherins who were still licking their own wounds, it was a case of turning up their noses and whispering about how the mighty had fallen. 

Draco couldn’t deny them that, for most of his formative years he’d been nothing but an arrogant little prick and if the shoe were on the other foot then he knew he would do the same as them. Worse, he wouldn’t just whisper, he would revel in it. Now, though he was wading in his own shit. He had crawled up through the muck to get to where he was now. Malfoy vaults had been restored, and what didn’t go to restitution or legal fees had been enough to afford him a gorgeous flat close to Diagon Alley. He still had to work and there wasn’t as much of a cushion as before, but his life was better than he thought it would be when he took the mark. It was more than he deserved, his apartment, his job, Harry. Though, he supposed Harry was a form of penance all his own. 

It was odd how quickly Draco had been taken into the golden boy’s inner circle. Apparently it was all one big love fest when Granger and Weasley discovered their shared mark. To most it had been a foregone conclusion, but if the look on Ron Weasley’s face anytime he so much as thought about Granger was any indication then their marks were truly a Godsend. Draco tried to give credence to the thought that their marks had just appeared one day out of the blue onto pale and olive skin, if at least then, he could hope his might one day vanish with that same power. Sadly, Draco’s mark wasn’t going anywhere.

“What has you so pensive, Malfoy?” asked Ron Weasley. Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he spoke. “I can’t help it if your voice puts me to sleep, Weasley.”

“Ha, ha,” said Ron. Draco had once again found himself at The Weasley’s ancestral home, otherwise known as the Burrow, this time for George and Angelina’s engagement party. Draco wondered briefly to whom Molly Weasley had sold her soul to have had so many of her children find their marks at such an early age. Ron and Hermione. George and Angelina. The Weaslette and Blaise of all people. Even Percy Weasley had been hopping around Neville Longbottom as of late. Bill had Fleur and several amazingly gorgeous children. Draco was even sure the dragon tamer had a mark mate. Why else would one move to Romania?

The only one left of Molly’s brood sans partner was Harry and Draco surely wasn’t going to announce that she was batting a perfect game. Draco rationalized it was good for the nosy woman anyway, maybe she’d get a refund on that soul after all. 

Besides what good was a soulmate if you couldn’t see them standing beside you? 

“You good Draco?” Granger said, plopping herself down beside a besotted looking Weasley. 

“It’s nothing, Granger.” 

She laughed, patting her rounded belly gently. 

“You now it’s Weasley, now right? You were at the wedding.”

“Don’t blame me for that. It wasn’t my fault that my incompetent partner landed us both in an Elmer’s lock. We were glued to each other for two days Gra….Weasley.   
Two days.” 

It had been the worst two days of Draco’s life, living in constant panic his shirt would lift or his glamor would fail and Harry would somehow see. 

“Well, they did make for interesting wedding photos,” said Ron and the happy couple shared a giggle at Draco’s expense. 

“Oi,” said Harry, coming over with a drink Draco just knew was for him. 

“What’s so funny?” asked Harry, finally handing Draco his lager with a smile. Oh, his favorite. He gave Harry a nod at a job well done. 

“Just the wedding,” Weasley filled him in, at the same time he unconsciously pulled a piece of string off his wife’s shoulder. It was a tell tale mark mate sign. 

Draco thought it was sort of like monkeys. When you found your mate you subconsciously tried and well, groom them. You pull pieces of fuzz off their shirt or brush a   
piece of hair back into place. You also get them drinks without getting one for yourself and always demand to go into unknown buildings first. You even, once, lick your thumb to brush dust off their foreheads after a particularly nasty battle. 

Draco had wanked for weeks over that mental image, Potter battle worn, sweaty and sexy, licking the pad of his thumb. You also have an uncontrollable urge to pick up things in the hovel they call a home. Good thing it was common knowledge how much of a clean freak Draco was before they were partners or Harry might not be so clueless about their situation. 

“Where’s Tyler?” Ron asked Harry. 

Draco hoped Harry wouldn’t feel him stiffen. 

Draco got up from his seat, willing to search out any conversation that wasn’t about Octavian “perfect” Tyler. 

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, reaching out a hand unconsciously to steady Draco in case he fell. 

“Loo,” Draco answered succinctly. Harry nodded and Draco could feel his eyes on him as he walked away. After using the toilet, Draco fell into a conversation with   
Angelina. 

“Are you sure about this?” Draco asked her, eyeing her fiancé animate a mop to follow Bill around the room. 

“He’s an idiot, but he’s brilliant,” she sighed. “and, he’s mine so….” She shrugged, then gave her fiancé a broad smile. George turned as she had said his name and smiled stupidly back at her before returning to torturing Bill. It was one of the things that had saved them both several times out in the field, the inherent awareness of one another, that almost locator like ability to tell where one another was at any time. The people at the office chalked it up to a good partnership. 

The proof was always right in front of them, in front of all of them, but no one seemed to make the connection. Maybe it was as far fetched for them as it was to Draco, that the savior of the Wizarding World could ever find his match in a former death eater. 

Maybe they had figured it out, but had pushed it to the back of their minds because “there was no way.” Those thoughts haunted Draco when he was feeling   
particularly maudlin so he pushed them aside. Harry smiled at him from between the horde of red heads, but Draco pretended like he didn’t see. 

 

&&&

 

Sometimes magic just doesn’t work, Dittany doesn’t heal every wound, your Protego doesn’t last as long as you need it too, and your Accio sometimes brings you the antique baking spoon instead of just one to eat your ice cream with. And sometimes some marks are wrong. Or at least that’s what the tag line was for FATE Reconstruction Inc. The only place you could go to help deal with unsatisfactory soul marks and the one place no one talked about. There were places that dealt in unwanted soul marks. They were shunned institutions. Mostly places that were only talked about in the shadows even if you could smell them from a mile away. The burning off of a soul mark was one of the cruelest acts that a person could commit. Kicking a puppy in the face would get you less hate than getting your soul mark burned off. It was mainly for those who wanted to deny the system, who wanted to rebel against society and the rules that they were all expected to follow. Some just didn’t like the idea of fate already having it all mapped out, some just wanted a chance to exercise their free will, but that didn’t mean that it was easy. There were side effects of getting your marked removed, serious side effects both emotionally and psychically. Draco had read testimonials and heard the warnings of those who heard what happened to people who had their soul mark removed, some were perfectly content with their decision despite the backlash they received, they seemed happy, but it was the others, the people who wrote about regretting their decision, or about how they met their soulmate after decades of looking only after they got their mark removed only to not be able to prove that they were in fact meant for them. 

It came with physical side effects as well, sickness was common for at least a few weeks after getting the mark removed, fever and aches, some even needing to be hospitalized. Some said they never felt the same afterwards, that they would catch themselves running over the spot on their arm or leg where the mark once was, missing it like when someone has their arm removed but they can still feel their fingers moving. It was a ghost pain they knew they would never be able to shake. It was less taboo to name you child Voldemort than it was to talk about “that place”. But that didn’t stop Draco from walking past it on occasion, the thought was always at the back of his mind, that one day he may find himself inside rather than outside.   
Harry who would always be a Gryffindor brat was infernally curious and Draco knew he couldn’t’ avoid the topic forever. Harry was already more inquisitive than most. Draco knew that his curiosity was only natural seeing how much time they spent together, but lately there had been a few close calls. The Elmer incident at his best friend’s wedding, that one mission in Prague, a game of twenty questions Draco hadn’t realized was a trap until it was almost too late. Harry had even asked him once over a stack of paperwork if Draco had anyone. Draco had told him no, not yet, and in no uncertain terms closed the topic leading to a pouting Harry and an argument about trust. 

 

“That has nothing to do with trust, Potter, that has to do with you being a nosy bastard!” Draco had shouted. 

Harry had later apologized, and Draco hoped they were done with it. He should have known better. 

&&&

Fucking sexy. That’s what Harry was during interrogation. The room was weighted with the pulse of his power. It was a classic case of good auror and bad auror, but where everywhere expected Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World and benevolent hero they got a mammoth of power and a smile that quickly turned deadly in the interrogation room. By the time Harry was through with them, they were begging Draco to take over, and Draco fucking loved for it. 

More often than not Draco left any shared interrogation as hard as a rock and if not for a quick charm, incapacitated until he could take care of it properly. 

“Auror Malfoy,” Kingsley said as he stepped out into the hallway outside of a particularly intense questioning. Draco could still feel Harry’s power through the thick and heavily warded door. 

“Yes, sir, just taking a break,” replied Draco smoothly. Kingsley nodded then walked on. Harry popped out a minute later acting as if for the world he hadn’t just been driving both Draco and the criminal to confession. 

“We got him,” Harry said with a smile. 

Draco cleared his head. 

“Yes, well the evidence was pretty damning.”

“No,” said Harry, placing a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I mean, we got him. He confessed as soon as you left. Works every time,” Harry said, still giddy after his   
win. 

“Yeah,” Draco quipped. “That’s because he was probably scared you were going to murder him without me there as a witness.”

Harry laughed then caught Draco’s eye, Draco hadn’t noticed at first, but the closer they got as partners, the more he noticed the frequency of Harry’s looks. Eye contact between soulmates was legendary. It was used to gather strength and give support to the other, it could be used to foster telepathy, but it was always very intense and very distinctive. 

Draco had to summon unreal amounts of will power on occasion to break eye contact with Harry when it was going on for too long in a meeting or at one of the Weasley’s homes, once even during one of Octavian’s visits. Draco might have let that one go on longer than he should have. 

In most cases, it would have been inopportune for anyone to learn of their connection, but Draco figured it wouldn’t hurt to enforce the knowledge in Octavian’s head that as close as their marks might be that he and Harry weren’t “perfect matches” and that somewhere out there Octavian’s own soulmate was waiting for him. 

Then, it happened. 

A wild looking patronus came bounding down the hall, barreling straight toward Harry. 

“Somethings wrong, Hermione….” It was Ron Weasley’s broken voice. Then quietly, “Love, its…..” Then. “Get to St. Mungos, please.” Harry apparated them out of   
the Ministry before the last syllable was uttered in Ron Weasley’s broken voice. 

Soulmate love can cure a lot of things, an accidental cut in the kitchen or even a dislocated shoulder. It even increases the health of the people involved, but it also has it’s limitations. It can’t bring the other back from the dead or heal them from serious injuries or mind magic, and it has no effect on children. 

Harry wrapped Ron Weasley in an unbreakable hug the moment he saw him. Completely drained of all color, Ron Weasley sobbed into the neck of his best friend since the age of eleven as his wife and other life long best friend fought for her life and the life of their child. She had started bleeding out of nowhere. She was at the office when she felt a sharp pain then the blood started. 

She had instantly called for Ron, her terror overwhelming her common sense. Her assistant was the one who side alonged her to St. Mungos where they met Ron.   
They took her back immediately. It was moments after that Harry and Draco arrived that the rest of the Weasley’s popped into the room, each embracing Ron and Harry one after the other in a giant hug. 

As a nurse called for Ron, the Weasley’s broke up into smaller huddles. Draco was suddenly pulled into a distraught George Weasley’s arms. Harry had told him before about how the remaining twin was now more open in his grief and how the rest of the family learned to tread lightly around him after Fred’s death. When the family owl Errol died, George had locked himself up in the shop for weeks. Only coming out with some creative intervention from then friend Angelina. The two had come out as a couple some months later. Draco wondered if either of them knew that the mark had a role in that. 

After Hermione’s miscarriage with their first child, the Weasley family had been shrouded in unease. Hermione over compensated by drafting legislation after legislation. “If I can’t effect change in my own life then I’ll do it in others.” 

Ron had another reaction. He quit his job as an auror and went to work at the joke shop with George. He said that he was getting to old for all the running around they had to do, but late one night, Draco heard Ron confess to Harry that he just couldn’t bear to see any more blood. 

Draco understood, and every time he saw the Weasel he teased him about his bad back and old man knees. Ron took it good naturedly, “You’ll get there one day,   
ferret.” But Draco never missed the relieved smile that always showed on his face afterwards. 

Harry was there, so that meant that Draco was too. Harry would invite the still grieving couple around to his messy home and insist that Draco stay. Draco would automatically pull Hermione into a conversation about her newest bill, one of the only things that she was passionate about anymore and Ron and Harry would take turns going through and disarming old House of Black items that Harry hadn’t bothered to go through. If they found a particularly nasty one all four of them would work on it together until the curse was broken, sometimes they worked on it all night, until finally an exhausted and frustrated Hermione would cuddle up with her husband and the pair would finally get some sleep. 

One night, after being shaken out of thought by Ron Weasley’s boisterous snoring, Harry nudged Draco and mouthed, “Thank you.” 

He wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for. Anyone could have done this, anyone could have been the person that helped them the way that he had, but it was nice regardless, so Draco just nodded, before giving Harry a very bro-like pat on the back.

There were days when it felt like Harry was his, today was one of those days. They were on a stakeout, seventy-two hours without sleep or normal wizarding comforts, when their relief had finally showed up. To far to apparate and too covert a mission to register a portkey they had taken refuge in one of the ministry approved safe houses until they could rest up, eat something substantial and take a blessed, blessed shower. They dragged themselves into the one room safe house, and Harry fell to his knees in relief. 

And even after nearly seventy plus hours with no sleep, despite keep awake charms, Draco’s cock still gave an interested twitch at the sight. Too bad he didn’t even have the energy for a proper wank. 

So instead he walked to the little eat in kitchen and grabbed a can of something and put it in a pot. 

“Oh, no,” said Harry, coming up behind him. “We’ve ate your cooking for days, it’s time for me to cook for you.”

“You just don’t want to get food poisoning again,”  
Harry gave him a fond, placating look and Draco relinquished the pot. 

“Okay then Mr. Potter, but I expect the best out of my service.”

Harry smiled. “Of course, Mr. Malfoy.” Then he gave a swift bow and set to making their dinner for the night. Harry moved in the kitchen like he did in a fight, efficient and exacting. Before Draco knew it, dinner was on the table and Harry’s brow was glistening with the effort, Draco’s weary body asking another question. They ate the first serving in ravenous silence each just trying to fill their empty bellies. Though, when their hunger was numbed enough their usual ease with each other took over. 

“Now, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m not saying anything, Potter.” 

“Yeah,” chuckled Harry. “Because you’re so full the only thing you want to do is wrestle me for the bed.” 

Okay, now Draco’s body was demanding an answer because even his ears had heard Harry say, “Wrestle me to the bed.” Not for it. 

“As long as we do it in the bed I don’t really care who wins,” And Draco was fully awake as he noticed Harry’s cheeks heat up and it wasn’t because of the meal.   
Draco’s orientation had always been sort of an open secret when they were in school. Though Draco had made it a point after he had seen Harry’s mark to make it   
more than just a secret. 

Often on assignment, either Draco or Harry would sleep while the other would keep watch or they would thumb wrestle to be the one who got an hour or two, but tonight, no one had to keep watch. 

“You mean we could share?” asked Harry. Draco opened his mouth to vehemently deny that he ever alluded to any such thing, but Harry continued. 

“Sure, yeah, I mean if it’s okay with you.” Then seeming to decide that it was in fact okay with him, Harry brightened considerably. 

“Okay, but I get first dibs on the shower. I may book better than you, but somehow your sheer stubbornness keeps you from stinking as much as me.”

If Draco tried he could almost convince himself that this was real, that Harry was his and that he was bustling about, getting ready for bed in their room and that   
this was completely normal and expected instead of completely throwing Draco into an undignified frenzy. 

If it were happening to anyone but himself Draco would have found it almost comical, his dry mouth and shaking hands. He was sharing a bed with Potter for Merlin’s sake not proposing marriage. Harry was, and Draco hated the word but, Harry was too cute for words in his little sleep pants and old Cannon’s t-shirt, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, darting about the room packing up his things the muggle way, arguing with Draco over the benefits of packing without magic. 

“Your pants don’t get that staticy thing when you do it this way. With magic, every time I sit down my arse gets shocked.” 

Draco laughed, feeling a little lightheaded. 

“Ow,” Draco said, forgetting for a moment just how sore his back was from their long hours in the same position on that blasted hill that provided most of their cover.   
Harry’s head snapped in his direction. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” said Draco even as Harry pulled out his wand. 

“No, really,” Draco said as Harry climbed onto the bed, tossing his toothbrush onto the table. Draco had a minor heart attack as he batted Harry’s hand away as   
his overzealous partner tried to life his shirt. Draco pushed at Harry’s shoulder in what he hoped was a friendly sort of, “I’m fine, don’t bother,” rather than the terrified shove he meant it as. Based on Harry’s laugh he succeeded. 

“Relax, I’m not gonna touch your boo boo, I just wanted to cast a quick charm.” 

“I’m fine,” Draco said, still eyeing Harry like a frightened animal. 

“Okay,” said Harry, deciding that Draco’s shoulder was a safe, bro place to put his hand. 

“Sorry, I forgot how rubbish you were at healing cha….”

“I’m not rub…” Draco started before he stopped himself. 

“Okay,” he admitted. “But I make up for it in my shield charms.” 

Harry nodded, verging on patronizing if he didn’t know any better. But Draco did and he shuddered to think that if they hadn’t become partners that he would   
have missed knowing that despite his curiosity that Harry was the kind of person that really only just wanted his partner to feel better, not to sneakily take a peek at his mark. 

“I’m a bit of a floppy fish when I sleep, you might need it,” said Harry. 

Still, Draco hesitated. 

“That’s your mark, isn’t it?” 

Draco froze. 

“It’s okay,” said Harry calmly. “I promise I won’t look, okay? But we need to lift your shirt for the charm to take effect.” 

Draco was going to say no, absolutely not, never in a million years that he could very well deal with the pain, but then… Harry Potter closed his eyes. 

It was such a simple gesture, such a Harry one, as if Harry had just given Draco all the reassurance he needed by closing his eyes. Harry wouldn’t look because he said he wouldn’t. That was it. 

And maybe that’s why Draco did it. 

“Okay,” said Draco. “But keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay,” said Harry, his eyes still closed. “But you’ll have to guide my hand.”

Harry stuck out his empty hand, palm up, and Draco was glad his eyes were closed so Harry couldn’t see how badly he was shaking. Every Slytherin instinct and every   
thing his parents had ever told him rang through his head to not do it, but as much as Harry trusted Draco, Draco also trusted Harry. He didn’t need to put his hand over Harry’s eyes, or blindfold him, he didn’t need to cast a glamour or make him turn away because Harry’s word was enough. Harry said he wouldn’t look so he wouldn’t, so Draco took his outstretched hand while lifting his shirt, revealing Harry’s matching mark on his body. 

“It’s here,” Draco said, when he finally braced Harry’s hand on his back, dangerously close to the Mark. Draco took a deep, hopefully silent breath and shook his head. Harry couldn’t see him, but the Mark magic was working now, so wordlessly Harry began casting the healing charms on Draco’s skin. Harry’s hand moved over Draco’s back trying to calm him and help the magic connect and heal quicker. His hand massaged into Draco’s back, his shoulder lulling Draco into an almost hypnotic stupor. 

In hindsight, he should have recognized it for what it was. There was a reason that soulmates often married and procreated quickly. The physical touch of a soulmate was better and gave far more sustenance than food or water, causing some soulmates to be physically incapable of being separated from one another. 

Then Draco felt Harry’s hand move toward his mark, it might have just been the edge of his finger, but Draco was nearly pulled under by the sheer weight of pleasure and wholeness that he had never felt before. Awareness came upon Draco like he had been stunned. Like he was on the floor, unable to move, but of a fully conscious mind.   
It was time for Draco to snap out of it. He stiffened slightly and felt Harry do the same. 

“Sorry,” said Harry, finishing the charm and putting his wand away. “I guess I must be more tired than I thought.” Harry pulled back even farther, unconsciously having got closer to Draco, and before Draco could say or do anything else completely life threatening. He turned and tucked into bed. 

“G’night, Potter, please do try not to flail so much.” 

He heard Harry murmur an agreement then a few moments later felt his body rise from the bed. His body wised up and forced him to sleep before he could feel Harry’s weight return to the bed. 

In the morning, Draco had to pry Harry’s body from his side. He woke, Harry’s head on his chest, tilted up so Draco couldn’t possibly miss the peaceful look on his face. Harry’s leg was between his own, Harry’s arms wrapped around Draco tighter than a noose around his neck. Draco gently pushed Harry off, less they were put in another awkward position, but this time Draco did something truly stupid like nuzzle Harry’s hair or let his fingers hitchhike across the little valleys of Harry’s spine. He went to the bathroom and took a real shower, putting up enough silencing charms to keep Harry asleep. 

Draco tugged furiously on his aching cock, desperate to reassert that mornings like this didn’t belong to him. Draco didn’t own Harry’s soft morning face or his worn but proud expression at having made a good meal. No, Draco owned the hard ones, the determined look as they talked out a difficult case, the fierce ones in battle and the exhausted ones, full of relief when the paperwork was finally completed. No, Draco would never be treated to that other kind of knowledge and couldn’t bring himself to steal them. 

So he didn’t think of what he would have done if things were different, how he would have pulled Harry’s sleep clothes from his body, how he would have gently pressed his hips against the man he loved and how Harry would be just as eager for him. He didn’t envision smooth touches or slow kisses, not even the warm glow that would fill Harry’s eyes.   
No, he didn’t think about making love to Harry at all. 

Instead, Draco thought about fucking some random dark haired man fast and rough until he came all over the bathroom walls. He cried silently for all the “soft” moments then put back on the face of comrade and friend. 

With that mask Draco was able to fend off Harry’s new attitude. The closer than normal proximity had affected Harry quite drastically. For that day, Harry stood closer to Draco than what anyone would call friendly. When Draco sat, Harry sat right by him. Harry found himself touching Draco subconsciously, brushing his bangs out of his face when they were cooking, grazing his hand over a folder. Draco could tell that Harry too, was disconcerted by his new found attachment to Draco, if his blushes and stammers were anything to go by. Draco knew they had to get out of there fast. 

Harry was a brilliant auror, and Draco knew it wouldn’t take him long to figure out Dra…their secret, and Draco wasn’t sure if his resolve could last against all those soft things or not. But he knew that Harry could never ever know about their connection. Not ever. 

&&&

 

“What do you think of?”

“What?” asked Draco unsure if Harry was actually speaking to him or not. Harry turned to face him. Ron Weasley had called them, Hermione was in labor again,   
nearly a year and half after her first miscarriage. Now, Draco, Harry and the rest of the Weasleys were all crowded into the waiting room. 

Back in the same waiting room, though this time the only tears were happy ones. Ron had came out briefly to update the excited group “everything’s amazing” before hurrying back to his beautiful pregnant “but not for much longer” wife.

“What do I think of when?” replied Draco. 

George and Angelina had offered to go to the cafeteria and get snacks for the group. Harry had refused to move from his spot closest to the doors his future goddaughter or godson would be carried out of. 

“What do you think of when you cast your patronus?”

You, Draco almost said. The question so random he almost answered on reflex. 

“I….” Draco started. “That’s private, Potter.” 

Harry smiled. 

“You know what I think of?” 

The warning signs flashed in Draco’s mind and his defense mechanisms started to take over. “I believe it was once a rather morbid memory of your mother,” Draco quipped. 

“Did you ever see a mind healer for that one, Potter, or not, because I really think you should consi….”

“I didn’t need too,” Harry cut in. “Because it changed.” And before Draco could reply with more vile, Harry said. “I changed it to you.”

Draco couldn’t control the surprise on his face. 

Him? 

“Me?” 

Harry smiled calmly, contrasting the ferocity in Draco’s chest cavity. 

“You, Ron, and Hermione, I think of things after the war and how Ron and I go to Quidditch matches, and Hermione and I go out for tea to see each other   
because were both so busy and… and I think about you, about how different we both are, but how we’ve moved past what we were to be who we are now. I think of that and I feel…..peaceful. 

Harry blinked away some mist that had gathered in his eyes, and Draco refused the urge to reach out a hand to him. 

“So now,” Harry said, seeming to clear his head. “Now, you’re supposed to tell…”

Then the doors opened and Ron Weasley walked through them, a little yellow blanket in his arms. Of course, Granger would demand on a gender neutral color. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” George asked, the crowd of Weasleys crowding around the new father. 

“It’s a girl,” Ron said, his voice thick with emotion. He gave Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a shaky smile before turning surprisingly to Harry and Draco. 

“Draco, Mate,” the man was crying for real now. 

Then Ron placed the newborn child into his old bully and former death eater’s arms. Draco’s mouth fell open, ready to protest when he fully looked at the tiny   
infant in his arms for the first time, and tears welled up in his own eyes. 

“We’ve named her Rose, and we, Hermione and I, plus the family have agreed that well…” Ron stuttered. “We want you two to be Rosie’s godparents.” 

Harry immediately fell into Ron’s arms and began sobbing right along with the other man. Somewhere in their joint cries, Draco heard Harry say, “Yes, of course,   
of course, we will.” Ron, smart enough to see through Harry’s enthusiasm in agreeing for the both of them, looked over his head at Draco. The hopeful look on his face brightened into a full blown smile when Draco firmly nodded his head. 

“But,” said Draco. “Can we not call her Rosie even again? Rose is a much more suitable name for a Malfoy’s godchild,” Ron smiled and Draco fell in love with another member of Harry’s family. 

 

&&&

 

It happened. 

Harry and Octavian Tyler were finally done. 

Two weeks after Hermione had given birth to Draco’s new favorite person, the newly minted parents had come by to see Draco and Harry at work. Draco had   
automatically reached for the little bundle of perfection, after having raced Harry to the new parents for the privilege. The five of them were chatting, Draco was   
feeding Rose a bottle when Octavian walked into the room. Harry had given him a quick kiss on the cheek then hurried off to hand Draco a towel for his shoulder. 

Octavian took a seat in front of Draco next to Hermione and began chatting with her amicably. Normally, Draco would leave the room when Octavian came to visit, but with his arms full of baby, he had no chance but to stay put. 

“Aw,” Draco said. “She’s spitting up,” Draco said, wiping Rose’s face off the best that he could. 

“It’s okay, Rose,” he told her, looking to Hermione for a cloth, but Harry was already there. Harry handed him a wet towel from the diaper bag and wiped Rose’s face and also dapped at Draco’s shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Draco said. And in a swift motion, Harry took Rose from his arms, allowed Draco to wave his wand at his soiled clothes, then took a wave at Harry’s shirt as he hadn’t quite gotten it off Rose, then Draco motioned to Harry that she needed to be changed. 

Harry nodded, not needing a verbal cue, then the pair set to changing her together. They worked to take care of her nappy and then hand her back to Draco so   
she could finish being changed as smoothly as they could. 

When Draco was sat back down in his chair, Ron was looking at them in amazement. 

“Wow, Malfoy, I never knew you had so much experience with children.”

“I don’t, Weasley, it’s not my fault your child is more well-behaved when she’s with me.”

Hermione shook her head, she too, looked awed. 

“No, Draco, I mean that was quite amazing. Ron and I can’t even change her without poop getting on one or both of us.” 

“I literally might have some on me right now, and you changed her not me.”

“I guess we’re just naturals,” said Harry, smiling down at his beloved Goddaughter. And while Ron and Hermione had seemed to take Harry’s words at their own value,   
and Draco made a quick joke to move past the moment, he didn’t miss the look on Octavian’s face. He had successfully kept their connection hidden for years, and now, it seemed, one child had changed everything, because Octavian Tyler knew. 

Draco knew that he shouldn’t have opened the door. Harry was upset. Octavian had broken up with him. He had shown Harry his mark and had insisted that they break up. Harry hadn’t taken it well, and now they were back to the same thing Draco couldn’t seem to get away from. 

Harry’s eyes flared widely before narrowing the way they always did when he was agitated. 

“Why won’t you just tell me what it is? You’ve seen mine.”

“The whole world has seen yours!” exclaimed Draco. 

“But you’re my best friend,” defended Harry. 

“You bought Madam Pince a birthday gift last year, as you haven’t seen her in years. I’m hardly special.” He tried to make it lighthearted, but Harry caught him   
out. 

“It was a retirement present,” Harry defended. Then clearly pissed, “I don’t understand that,” and alarm bells started to go off inside Draco’s head. “You’re my   
best friend. We spend nearly every day together and you’re telling me that you don’t think you mean more to me than our old librarian?” 

“Well, no,” said Draco, knowing he sounded ridiculous. “But compared to your other best friends, Hermione or Ron, or any of the other Weasleys, yeah.” 

Harry looked at him incredulously. 

“You honestly believe I tell Hermione or Ron half the things I tell you? What? Do you think I just spread all my secrets to anyone who’s willing to listen? About the mark   
or Octavian. They already have their mark mate, they don’t understand what it’s like,” said Harry. Draco paled.

“Of course not.”

“Then what, Draco?” Harry moved toward him. “As far as I’m concerned you’re the one who doesn’t trust me.” 

He meant his mark, he knew he did. Draco stood. He wasn’t going to let Harry bully him into an argument. He couldn’t see his mark no matter what. He stepped   
forward. Draco moved back. And things changed. 

“I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” barked Draco. He could apologize later, but Harry had to go now. He bumped the coffee table in his hurry to get to the door, and Draco had to fight back the   
urge to ask him if he was okay, the clumsy fuck. He grabbed his leather jacket with a flurry and pulled it on angrily. 

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asked. “I’ve never pressured you into showing me your mark, but to think that you feel so low about your place in my life…” He stopped, face red and nearly out of breath after his ranting. “You’ve met my family for goodness sake. Sometimes I honestly think they like you more than me. Hermione and Ron call and the first thing they ask is how you’re doing.” 

He didn’t know that. Draco knew how much Harry loved the Weasleys, but he never thought. 

“I just…” 

He looked so defeated, like he had no more words left to give Draco, but as Draco moved to breach the distance between them he spoke again. 

“I just want to be able to have the same with him, you know?” 

Draco froze. 

His hand stopping millimeters away from ending their argument. Draco had heard plenty of talk about Harry’s soulmate. When he was feeling particularly rueful all he wanted to talk about was how wonderful they were going to be and all the things he had planned for the two of them in the future. Draco had to listen to Harry talk about how lovely he was going to be, how kind and gorgeous, and how he better like Quidditch as much as he did all while Draco was sitting right beside him, but never this. 

“I want someone to share my life with, someone to sit on the couch and watch rubbish tv with. I want someone who’s funny and interesting, someone I can talk to.” He felt wrecked, desperate tears in his eyes because he longed for this person who has been by his side for nearly two years, and suddenly Draco realized just how angry he was. How could he not see him? That was all the stuff they did together. Draco was the one who listened to him. Draco was the one who suffered through Cannon matches with him. Draco was the one who his family loved and who would do anything for him, and yet he has always looked right past him. 

“So, basically you want me?” Draco spoke up, unable to stay silent any longer. “Me, but less stained?” he clarified for a confused looking Harry. 

“Wha….?” 

“We do all of those things together. Why do you think we get along so well Harry? You’re the brilliant auror, don’t tell me you still don’t get it.” The words were out in   
anger before Draco could filter them with sanity. And then he watched as it started to click for Harry. 

“Where is it, Draco?” 

“Get the fuck out of my house,” replied Draco calmly. If he didn’t back down now he would still leave, and he wouldn’t…… 

“Show me your mark.”

“No.”

Draco moved into the kitchen putting the island between him and Harry. 

“Let me see.” He was growing insistent. “You’ve been saying that I don’t trust you, that I don’t share things with you, but I tell you more than you tell me.”

“Cause you’re so self-centered. You don’t care to listen to me, and for goodness sake you’re an auror, not a part of biker gang poser drop the leather jacket.” 

Harry takes it off and drops it on Draco’s gorgeous hardwood floors. 

“Happy?” he asks, but of course Draco’s not happy. The sleeveless shirt Harry has on is showing way too much skin for Draco’s liking and he’s being an ass. 

“Put it back on and leave please.” 

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, not until you tell me what you meant or show me….” 

Draco couldn’t take him. Harry spent more time in the gym than Draco ever has so physically kicking him out wasn’t an option, but he could leave him there. 

“Sleep on the couch then. I’m going to bed.” 

Draco moved out of the kitchen and headed to the stairs to his room. Draco should have known not to turn his back on an angry Harry Potter. Harry grabbed his arm,   
and Draco pulled back so fast it was as if something had bit him. Harry at least had the decency to look ashamed. He was looking at her floor. 

“Is it you?” Harry finally asked, voice low. Two years and he couldn’t even look at him when he asked.

“No,” Draco lied, giving hope to the question in Harry’s tone. Harry didn’t want it to be him. He sounded ashamed, but all Draco could say was “Fuck you.” Harry   
reached for him again, but Draco pulled back. 

“I’ve had enough of your little show Harry. I’m going to bed.” Draco willed his voice not to shake. “Then let’s go,” he said, pulling his shirt up and over his   
head. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve slept in the same bed.”

Draco remembered their time at the safe house and how Harry had wrapped himself around him, clinging to his body without knowing why and Draco kicked himself for being so stupid. Because while Draco knew Harry had just been unwittingly seeking comfort in their bond, it was only now that Harry was realizing the same thing and he looked betrayed. His eyes were wide, his voice high, shaking with the effort with Draco wasn’t sure what. 

“Is it you?” he asked once more before all hell broke loose.   
Draco tried to turn and run, but Harry got both his hands before he could pivot an inch in that direction. Draco pulled, desperate to get his hands out of Harry’s grip, but he was unrelenting. Draco was unable to get to his wand. 

“Let me go!” Draco shouted loudly, yanking his arms as he did, gaining a bit of freedom, turning then tripping on the rug beneath their feet. 

“Just tell me!” shouted Harry. Draco scrambled as Harry fell to the floor and yanked on his leg, pulling Draco to him even as Draco fought to crawl away. 

 

“Show me, Draco, please. Just fucking show me.” He pulled, grabbing ahold of Draco’s sweatpants. His shirt had rolled up during their scuffle. Realizing this,   
Draco reached to pull it back down, but as the waistband of his pants fell just a little lower he felt Harry’s frantic movements stop and heard him suck in a breath. Draco reached slowly to move his clothes back to where they belonged, but knowing it was too late. Draco scrambled to his feet, face hot, sweat down his back over the mark he had fought for two years to convince himself didn’t exist.

He wasn’t his.

He didn’t want him. 

He never even gave him the chance to be considered an option. Draco had always been non-descript and while he knew to the letter what kind of person Harry wanted to spend his life with. Draco knew then and he knew now as Harry sat stone cold and wide mouthed on his living room floor that it was never going to be him, despite the mark on his side that was a perfect match for Harry’s. 

“I’m getting it burned off,” Draco declared. “in the morning if I can, as soon as possible so you don’t have to worry.” 

Harry sat for a moment, then gave him a quick nod to tell Draco that he had heard, but Draco wasn’t going to wait around for him to leave. He went to her room,   
locked the door, and pushed the nearest heavy piece of furniture against it for good measure. Anything to physically take up the space between them.

Draco moved to his radio and turned it up loud. He didn’t even want to hear him. Draco stripped his clothes back to the mirror and flipped on the shower. He   
didn’t care if the water was too hot, let it do the work and burn the mark off his body. Let it be the water that finally cleansed him Let it burn so hot, so that its all he can think about, so hot it numbs his brain that refuses to stop shouting that it was right, that he never wanted him, that he has never been enough, that he tricked and betrayed Harry, that he took advantage of his friend and partner, that he never should have befriended him because he knew that no matter what he said or did that all roads led here to a boy who would never get what he really wanted and as of tomorrow another boy without a mark. 

Draco never thought he would be here. He always did hate waiting rooms. After the “incident” at his flat, Draco had steadfastly ignored Harry and all his owls and calls. In his devastation he had put in for work leave. He had to tell Shacklebolt what happened as the surgery would leave him out of it for awhile, leaving Harry’s name out of the conversation of course. Shacklebolt had looked at him with such pity that it had turned Draco’s already churning stomach. Shackelbolt didn’t ask any questions, neither did the people at the center. He had left for the Parkinson’s estate three hours after Harry had left his flat. Pansy and her family were still in Switzerland on an extended winter holiday so the place was a bit dusty, but at least it was vacant. He apparated to the center the next day without having slept a wink, Harry’s horrified look playing over and over again in his head. 

Harry had found out the truth and look what happened. He responded exactly the way Draco had always feared. A girl, younger than he, was being carted out as he was walking in, a worker of a side-along company waiting for her. Draco almost thought it was a friend of hers, or a family member before he saw the logo on the man’s vest and thought better of it. 

No, this was far too shameful to tell your family about. Draco certainly never planned to tell his. No one but he and Harry would ever know the truth of it. The receptionist handed him a clipboard and a pen. Draco took them gratefully. Maybe after this he’d finally be able to have some peace. He’d go home, take a shower if he could then go to bed. Who knows? He might even wake up hungry. To be able to swallow something but his own bile would be amazing. 

After, he would move departments. The Unspeakables had been tagging him for months. It would mean giving up a job he loved, but since being an auror was no longer a possibility, he had to do something. Being an Unspeakable might not be as much fun as being an auror, but at least it would be interesting. Draco looked down at the first sheet. Anonymity was paramount at places like this so they didn’t ask for any identifying information beyond gender. Draco moved to the next question. 

“Do you know who your soulmate is?”

Draco thought about checking no before answering honestly. As long as they didn’t need to know who, it didn’t matter anyway. The following questions were more intimate. 

Have you ever touched your soulmate, even casually? 

Yes. 

Have you spoken to your soulmate?

Yes.

Seen your soulmate in person?

Draco wondered at that, were some people really as cold as to burn their marks off before they even met with them? Before they even knew their name? Draco had   
heard of the extremists, those who were fervently against the marks, but he had always thought they were really more bark than bite. Draco should have known that   
nothing was impossible. 

Have you ever told your soulmate that you love them?

No. 

Draco had always been careful to avoid that word when he was around Harry. Any mention of love had always been carefully skirted. Draco no more wanted to hear   
about Octavian Tyler in bed then he did to talk to Harry about love and soulmates. He had to be sure he never slipped up, so he had erased that word from his   
vocabulary years ago. 

Then, do you love your soulmate? 

Draco almost threw the damn clipboard against the wall. Did he love Harry? Of course he loved Harry. He was doing this for Harry. Knowing him like he did Potter was at the Ministry right now trying to file an adjunction so Draco would have to marry him or thinking up some other idiotic commitment that he could trap him into with Hermione and the Weasel right by his side. Not because he wanted him but because he was a noble sod who would give up everything he wanted because of something that he thought he had to do. 

But, if Draco didn’t have his mark then no one would be able to prove anything, and Harry would stay free. He’d never have to see or think of Draco ever again. 

Draco shook those thoughts away and pressed on. Draco filled out the rest of the paperwork mechanically, and handed it to the receptionist without comment.   
Then he waited. 

The waiting room seemed almost designed to push people out. The seats were uncomfortable and the walls were a blinding white when paired with the   
fluorescent lights making it hard to look anywhere for longer than a few seconds at a time, more time to close your eyes and ponder your horrible decisions, Draco guessed. Draco didn’t have to ponder, he knew what this was, and he knew that this was the least of it. Draco waited.

And he waited. 

“I’m not leaving!” he wanted to shout at them. “I cannot be talked out of this!” But he didn’t, he stayed silent and jumped through their hoops. He’d wait all day if he   
had to. He had no where else to be. He waited so long that when the man finally came through the door and announced that he was ready for Draco, he jumped a little   
in his seat. 

“Mr. Malfoy.”

Now, this man wasn’t solemn and his eyes didn’t search Draco’s face for a sign of nervousness or worry that he wanted to back out. He just ushered Draco though the   
rather solid looking door to the exam room. Draco had only ever read about the burning process in a few of the more restricted books in the ministry’s library, and the rather clinical pamphlets FATE had in their waiting rooms. But the real thing was different. The room looked like any other healer’s office, white and sanitary and cold. Few words were spoken, and Draco stayed calm until the healer lifted his wand. Draco had smelled the sickening burn of sulfur melting skin before when he passed by FATE, the smell making him sick by product or association Draco never knew, but now it seemed more clear. When that wand touched his skin and that   
incantation was spoken, Draco would no longer have any tie to Harry at all. 

He would no longer be able to reach out to Harry at night when he felt the other man toss and turn with a head full of demons. He wouldn’t be able to reach out   
through their link and calm the other man. He would no longer be able to fight with him. They couldn’t be partners or fight together. He wouldn’t’ be able to watch out for him or to take pain away. After this he would mean nothing to Harry. More impossible, Harry would have to mean nothing to him. After this, Draco’s claim would be tossed aside. And they would each be on their own. 

 

&&&

 

Do you know those days when you are just so full of self-loathing that the only touch you can tolerate is your own? Do you know those days when even your own touch is repugnant? 

Draco could barely tolerate the feel of his arms against the side of his body. He didn’t dare use even the pads of his fingers to brush away his tears. The feel of   
them running over his cheeks and lips, dipping into his ears only made him cry more. The actual pain of burning the mark off his body was nothing compared with the knowledge of their now severed link. As Draco lay on the operating table writhing in pain, he had grabbed onto the healer’s shirt and fought to ask. 

“He…doe..hurt…..”

The healer looked down at him, the first signs of pity in his expression. 

“No, Mr. Malfoy, your soulmate doesn’t feel a thing.” Draco nodded to the man, and then allowed himself to close his eyes. His pain and Harry’s name mingling in   
his mind as the sleeping charm took effect. 

How do you convince someone you love them when they don’t believe that they can be loved? 

His recovery took longer than he thought it would. Three days before he could make it more than a few steps. A week before he could keep down anything solid. 

Two weeks before he could stand a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The pain in his side where the mark rested seemed to breathe. A weird fascination had taken hold of him, and he caught himself looking at it often. He looked at it more than he ever had before. The large scabby place on his side begged to be itched, to be removed and irritated though otherwise it didn’t physically hurt him, much. 

He decided to go back home after the surgery and his door had been hounded by knocks ever since. Loud, insistent knocks, knocks that sounded like someone was kicking on the door, quick in tempo knocks, and shy ones. Draco didn’t even have to strain to hear those, as quiet as they were. Still, Draco ignored them all. 

Eventually, he had to leave his flat, amazing as it was, and head back out into normal society. If being in the aurors taught him anything it was how to craft a good glamour. He wore one when he had to go out for food or other necessities. 

Other than that he could Floo into the Ministry, his new job was in a part of the Ministry that was only accessible by other Unspeakables. The hall outside his new office was nearly always vacant, unless you counted the quiet footsteps of his co-worker who had the office down the hall from Draco’s. It was nice, Draco told himself. Quiet, yes, but nice. He no longer had to deal with the incessant chatter or banging wizbees or whatever Weasley attraction was popular at the moment like he did at his old office. And he was doing well. 

The scrolls he was tasked with going over were ancient and interesting magical history, and he even got to use his potions skills every once in a while. It was rewarding work and Draco liked it. He really did. 

It wasn’t his fault that his damn ma….or the place where his mark used to be was determined to annoy him to death. The darn thing itched incessantly so much   
so that he broke down and called FATE. They told him that it was normal but that he should under no circumstances succumb to the itching. They said that the scabbing around the mark would eventually flake off on its own, but Draco was not to hurry it along. He had disconnected the Floo and went to bed with mittens on.

Then, the insistent knocking was back and Hermione Weasley nee Granger was at his door. Draco nearly flicked out the lights in his office and took the cowards way before he heard some gentle cooing and Hermione say, “It’s all right, Rose, you’ll see Uncle Draco soon.”

And just….damn those Weasleys.

Draco braced himself and opened the door begrudgingly. And before Draco could turn her away, Hermione shoved his goddaughter in his arms. The little bundle and only red head he could stand cooed and reached for him. 

“Hello, Draco,”

“Weasley,” Draco said. “You know I don’t really have time for a social visit right now.”

“Well good thing this isn’t a social visit then, isn’t it?”

“Then what kind of visit is it?” Draco snapped. “A reprimand, a punishment? Because sorry Granger, but my head of house was Severus Snape, and if you think you can dole out anything worse than he could think of then you are sorely mistaken.”

Granger-Weasley smiled.

“Good to see you haven’t loss your sense of humor.”

“Take your gorgeous child and leave my presence immediately.”

Draco tried to hand Rose back, but Hermione kept to looking at the scroll on his desk. Draco flicked it closed with a wave of his wand. “That’s top secret, plebian, you   
understand.” 

Hermione smiled knowingly. 

 

“I know that’s an Allucian scroll about the bathing habits of their people, not exactly top secret if I can decipher what it is?” 

“Nonsense,” Draco said. “You’re a brilliant witch. Your husband, however, wouldn’t have a clue.”

Hermione laughed. 

“True, but neither would your mark mate.”

Draco’s head whipped in her direction. 

“I don’t have a mark mate.”

Hermione’s expression soured. 

“Not anymore,” Draco continued. “Not that I ever really did.”

“Harry would see it differently.”

“Of course he would, but it doesn’t matter now does it. I’ve already taken care of it.”

Draco offered up Rose once more, full of the knowledge that he should be allowed to touch something so pure when he was so stained as he had said once   
before. Still, Hermione refused him. 

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t love him.” 

Draco’s weak resolve shattered. Tears came to his eyes that little Rose reached up and wiped away. 

“Me loving him was never the problem.” 

Then Hermione did something completely unexpected, she leaned over and kissed Draco Malfoy square on the lips. Draco pulled away before she even got close then   
he noticed the slight weight of her steps and the casual tilt of her head. And finally able to look past the infant in his arms, the pain in his side, and the heartbreak   
that has clouded his vision for weeks and finally he could see him. 

“How?”

“It wasn’t easy getting her to agree,” Harry Potter’s voice came out of Hermione Granger’s mouth. “But she did in the end.”

Draco forced Rose as gently as necessary into Harry’s arms. 

“Leave!” 

“Draco,” said Hermione, and the more he started to look like himself. Hermione’s bushy hair turning black and his height changing. 

“Please.”

“No, please leave!” 

Draco moved to go past him, but Harry blocked him in. 

“Draco, I had no clue…. I had no clue that you were my mate.”

“I’m not,” Draco denied. “I do not belong to you.”

Harry shook his head. 

“You belong to me because I belong to you.”

This is it, Draco thought. He has finally gone insane because there was no way Harry would ever have said that to him. 

“Draco,” Harry said again. “Please, please I didn’t know.”

Harry’s frantic eyes were back to normal shape and his figure was returning to normal. 

“I….I..”

“You what, Potter?”

“I love you!” Harry shouted. “I love you so much that I can hardly stand it. I always have and I am so, so sorry.”

Draco sobbed violently. 

“Why now?” You didn’t love me then, Potter, you never even looked at me.”

“Of course I did!” Harry shouted. “Do you honestly think I never thought about it?” 

“You let me go. I told you I was going to get it….”

“And I broke your door down after I left, but you were gone. I searched all over that night, but couldn’t find you. Then I went to the Ministry to try and file   
proceedings.” 

“Because you’re noble.”

“No, because I love you! You stubborn idiot!” 

“You can’t,” Draco said, the last traces of polyjuice wearing off. Rose looking up at her other beloved uncle in happy surprise. 

“Why not, Draco? Why can’t I love you?”

“Because I’m a death eater! Because people still spit on me when I walk down the street and you’re all over me around your family, but none of them ever considered   
that I was meant for you. None of them ever thought that you were my soulmate though the signs were all right there. Because you never considered it!” Draco shouted, glad he threw a silencing charm around Rose when he did. 

Harry fell to his knees. 

“Please, Draco, you don’t understand. I’ll give you anything, pensieve memories.”

“You know as well as me that those can be altered.” 

Then Draco managed to sneak around the kneeling savior. 

“In case it wasn’t clear when I burned your mark off my body, or changed jobs then let me make it cleared, I want nothing to do with you. You didn’t want me and   
now I don’t want you.”

&&&

 

He didn’t care what the healer’s said. What could possibly happen? He scratched violently at the mark on his side, the stubborn scab unwilling to give or flake, but literally all it took was some elbow grease. 

Draco itched and itched at the scab, but no relief was forthcoming. Magically healed there was no blood, but it was tough. Draco stopped himself, two feet from his kitchen drawer where he was hunting for a cheese grater. He fell to his knees and slammed his hands on the ground. He can’t believe he did this. He can’t believe he pushed him away. Harry was right there, begging Draco to take him back, telling him that he loves him, and Draco had walked away. Draco knew that it was for his own good, but it didn’t mean that it hurt any less. 

He thought that if he was rid of the mark that he would be rid of the mate. Wasn’t that the way that these things were supposed to work? If so, then why was he still feeling like this? Maybe he just needed to give it some more time. Maybe he had to wait until this bloody scab finally flaked away. Maybe then he would be able to stop thinking about Harry, and what if he had been telling the truth? 

 

&&&

Draco had grown adept at profiling when he was in the aurors. Like it or not, it was a useful tool. That’s how Draco knew that there was just something wrong with that guy he met at the grocery store. The tall, scruffy man looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His red eyes were noticeably watching Draco as he browsed the produce aisle. Still, Draco took his time, moving slowly, picking only the best apples like he normally did. He didn’t want anyone to get spooked. Draco took his spot in the check out line and he could feel the man’s eyes on him as the stranger followed behind him. 

All he had to do was wait for the moment when he was clear enough of people that he could apparate away. Not particularly caring if that was the cowards way or not. He would report the man as soon as he was on friendlier territory. 

Draco thanked the cashier and gathered his two reusable bags full of groceries. He would dump them if he had to because as soon as he reached the doors leading out of the store, the man was just a few feet behind him. 

Draco walked quickly down the street, the sound of footsteps behind him echoing loudly, but there were still too many people between him and a safe apparition   
point. Just as he was about to stop and confront the man, he turned only to see that no one was there. He turned back and reached for his wand, but it was too late, someone had stunned him and he was being whipped along in a side apparition. 

He woke, one side of his face raw, and his left eye swollen shut. It felt as if someone had taken quite the pleasure in beating him, breaking at least a few of his ribs. Out of his one good eye, he could see that he was in a barren looking room, barren except for the two men who were staring at him menacingly.

“Nice to see you , Malfoy,” the man who had stalked him from the supermarket said. 

Draco tried to take inventory of the room. Two clear exits. The door, but there was also one window that he thought he might be able to get out of if pressed. 

“Don’t even think about it,” the other man said, twirling Draco’s wand in his hand. 

“Got you, got you good, Malfoy, don’t we?” the twitchy one said. 

“Yeah,” he repeated. “We got you, we got the pretty auror like we planned.”

“Shut up, Murray,” the other man said to his friend, but he had already let something slip. Immediately, Draco thought that this might be a death eater thing, but the   
man had said auror, and that meant that they were probably connected in some way to someone that he and Harry had put away. 

He looked at the men through his one good eye, but neither looked too familiar. They were probably wearing glamours, Draco thought. 

“Having trouble recognizing us?” the more solid of the two men asked. 

“Yeah, we didn’t think you would. Doesn’t matter, he’ll know who we are.”

“What are you talking about?” Draco finally asked. 

“He speaks,” the same man said. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be able to after Murray here got through with you, but….”

The leader walked closer to Draco, his wand still in the man’s grip. 

He leaned over Draco and Draco realized that his hands were bound by his sides. The man leaned down and lifted Draco’s shirt, Draco struggled, but the man smirked   
when he saw the place where Draco’s mark once laid on his skin. 

“Your mark mate,” the man said. “Never though my mother’s old prophet collection would do anyone any good, but when she came home from the clinic and   
started digging through them, I knew something was up.”

The clinic? Oh, no.

“Harry Potter, she whispered. Oh what a poor boy. Now, she might not have been able to say anything to anyone, but none of those charms helps who happens to overhear her. It wasn’t too much work after that to be able to put two and two together and find the patient records. It was almost too easy.”

“Yeah, too easy,” his friend said, clearing coming down from some sort of high. 

“Huh,” the man sighed. “Now, how much do you think the great Harry Potter will pay to get his soul mate back?” 

“This is about money?” Draco asked in his best aristocratic tone. “If you want money, I can pay for my own release. Surely you are aware that the Malfoy vaults are   
the deepest in all off England.”

The man laughed. “I heard that they used to be the deepest in all of England, but after the war, things aren’t quite what they used to be are they? Oh, wait,” the man said. “you don’t think this is just about money do you.” 

Then the man waved Draco’s wand and the glamours that they both were wearing melted away, and Draco knew instantly who they were. 

A couple of firestarters he and Harry and captured and helped convict nearly a year ago. Thomas Monroe and his brother Murray had taken joy in starting forest   
fires near Muggle homes and playing with the people as they burned them alive. It had taken him and Harry more than three months to hunt them down, when they finally found them in Prague of all places, Harry had wound up in the hospital with burns and Draco had smoke inhalation, but they were both okay. The bound had worked then as they were lost in the pairs fire, making them able to find one another when otherwise they would have both been too weak to get out alive. 

He had found Harry lying near a fallen tree, and had just been able to apparate out and capture the two of them before getting Harry to a hospital. The people there were completely baffled as to how either of them were still walking the state that they were in, but no one had asked any questions. But Draco knew. He knew that the mark had saved them. 

But it wouldn’t save him now. 

Harry would have no clue what happened to him. Draco just hoped that he knew that it wasn’t his fault. 

“Lost in thought?” the elder brother asked. “Thinking about the boy wonder? How sweet,” the man taunted. 

“Actually I was thinking about your poor mother and what she must have gone through when she saw your ugly mugs on the front page of the Prophet, oh wait,”   
said Draco. “Maybe it was more like page eight.”

The man reared back and slapped Draco across the face. His face reverberated with pain and Draco had to fight not to scream out. 

“Don’t talk about my mother, Malfoy,” the man said, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. And somewhere in the back of Draco’s mind, he remembered his   
training, and made a grab for his wand. He laid a hand on it, stabbing it back into the man’s eye. 

“You son of a,” the man shouted, as Draco fought the bind on his body and tried to get away. His moved his wand ready to cast his patronus when the other brother stepped on his hand, effectively breaking it with a snap. 

Draco did scream then. And the other brother was back up. 

“Do you think he’s coming to save you? Do you think he’s going to rescue you? No,” the man said. “He didn’t want you then did he? You were obviously right there right under his nose, and yet I can still smell the burning skin? I bet you’ve never even been with anyone else,” the man said, and Draco’s stomach turned. And he knew what the man was going to do to him. 

“Don’t worry,” the man said, and Draco could hear his fly unzipping. “Me and Murray will make it really special for you.” 

Murray laughed manically as Draco felt the other man grab at his feet. Draco kicked wildly. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening. He screamed then,   
desperate for anyone to hear him, to help him. He screamed for the one person who has always been there. “Harry!” Draco screamed. “Harry, please!” 

And like that day in the middle of the woods, the door to the shack that they had him stashed in was blown off its hinges and Draco and Harry found each other once again. 

The two men were flown against the wall and exhaustion took over Draco’s mind and body as he knew that he could finally close his eyes because he was safe, because Harry was here, and Harry would never let anything happen to him. 

 

&&&

 

Harry took him back to his apartment after he had been checked over and cleared by the healers. It was the first time that he had touched Draco since the   
incident, but Draco was too numb to mind. Harry didn’t tell him that he loved him now, he only helped him out of his bloody clothes, and made sure that the healers left. He helped Draco get his sore body into a shower, and he turned on the hot water. 

“I’ll lay some clothes out for you,” Harry said, looking Draco in the eye. “I’m proud of you for fighting,” he said. And Draco nodded. 

The brothers were back in custody and would be sent to Azkaban. The healers had affirmed to both Draco and Harry that neither of the brothers had gotten to Draco, like that, and Draco thanked God for it. Harry had been too fast for them, but that didn’t save them from Harry’s wrath. The men would never be able to force anyone else ever again. Parts inoperable. 

Draco turned up the heat in his shower, and absently rubbed his hand over the mark on his side. And finally, it started to give. Draco couldn’t believe it. The scab had finally started to flake away, and Draco scratched at it violently. 

Let this all be over he thought. Let it all wash down the drain. 

As the last remnants of the mark washed away, Draco finished his shower, and wrapped a towel around himself, wondering how he could possibly thank Harry for all   
that he had done. 

He pulled his pants on then reached for his shirt when he caught his reflection in the mirror. He stopped, the shirt falling from this hands. And he knew how he   
would thank Harry. He would finally give him what he wanted. 

When Draco opened the door, Harry was standing there waiting for him. Draco moved instantly into Harry’s open arms, and kissed the other man the way that he always imagined that he would. And Harry kissed him back like he would never get the opportunity to do so again. 

Draco’s shirt lied on the floor of Harry’s bathroom for quite some time. He no longer needed it because beneath the scab that finally faded, wasn’t bare pale skin, but the mark that he had always born. 

And like all the other pieces of soulmate information that Draco knew and collected through his life, he knew this, that true soulmates, that two people who loved each other equally would never be rid of their marks by accident or design, even if one had it burned off. The mark was there and served the purpose that it always did, it said that Harry was his, and that Draco, that Draco was always and would always be Harrys. 

Harry ran his hand over his matching mark on Draco’s body as Draco laid asleep in his bed, and thanked God for every line.


End file.
